


Blurred Lines

by ItHappened



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:11:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItHappened/pseuds/ItHappened
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q must accompany Bond to Italy in order to help him complete his mission. But as they go deep undercover as a couple on vacation, the lines begin to cross, and Q begins to wonder where the charade ends and where reality begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

        “Absolutely not!” Q all but slammed his mug of lukewarm Earl Grey tea on the glass table. The liquid sloshed from side to side, dripping off to land in small drops on the ground. He stood, but the calm and collected Mallory held his hand up for him to stop the dramatics.

        “I know this isn’t our usual protocol, taking a Quartermaster into the field, but in this situation your presence is required,” he explained coolly.

        Q looked to James Bond, sitting next to him with the same file brief in his lap, his legs crossed over one another. He had his eyes firmly on Q and a small grin on his lips.

        Mallory continued on with the meeting, “The target is based in Rome, running a hotel as his main cover for his real operative: distributing firearms and technology to the highest bidder around the world.”

        “And you don’t believe I can’t merely input some numbers and have this man’s computers hacked within an hour here, in the confines of MI6?” Q demanded. Mallory closed his file and tossed it on the table.

        “Not this time, no,” he explained. “His hotel works as a blockade or sorts. You’ll need to be inside in order to work through the firewalls and security he has in place.”

        Q took his seat in a huff and slumped back into his chair.

        “So we’ll need to have a clean computer, in case he starts to suspect anything,” James injected. Q grabbed a pen from his brown cardigan’s pocket to scribble down some notes.

        “That’s already quite evident, 007,” Q mumbled as he wrote.

        “Your plane will be leaving tomorrow evening at seven—” Mallory began but stopped himself when Q’s head shot up and the color drained from his face.

        “Plane?” he choked.

        Mallory tilted his head in question. “Yes, plane. Those things that people board to get from one place to another.”

        “I’m well aware of what a bloody plane is,” Q snapped.

        James reached over and patted Q’s back affectionately, “Don’t mind him. He’s just a nervous flyer.”

        “I’m not a nervous flyer, because I don’t fly,” Q explained then turned his attention back to Mallory.

        “Then how do you expect to get there?” Mallory questioned.

        “The train system that runs through Europe is a fine and relaxing way to travel. I can take a quick shot across the channel and—”

        Mallory gave a sigh and stood, interrupting Q’s solution.

        “There isn’t enough time. Your flight is tomorrow,” he warned, “and I suggest you head over to medical so they can supply you with what you will need in order to handle the situation.”

        “This is unbelievable,” Q huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, “my job is at MI6, not in the field. I’d stick out like a sore thumb anyway.”

        The room went quiet, too quiet for Q’s tastes. He looked to James and then Mallory, seeing that his employer clearly knew something that he didn’t.

        “What?” he demanded.

        “There’s… another issue that I needed to share with you.”

        “Of course there is,” Q groaned.

        “You will be going undercover as… partners,” Mallory treaded carefully while taking his seat once more.

        “I hardly think it would be believable to assume that I was an agent.”

        Mallory lean his elbows onto the desk, “No, Q, you and James will need to appear as lovers.”

        James began to chuckle but kept his eyes on his file.

        Q shot him a glare and then turned his attention back to Mallory, “You’ve got to be joking. Pick another agent to do the damn job!”

        “I’m sorry I’m so ugly to you,” Bond joked and faked a frown.

        “Oh, shut up, James.”

        “Just look at it as a sort of vacation for you,” James tried to sooth his Quartermaster.

        “Yes, a vacation with henchmen shooting wild bullets at me whilst I’m running for my life,” Q replied then dropped his head onto the desk. “I’m going to be sick.”

        “That’s just nerves,” James said with a pat on Q’s back. “The first bullet is always the hardest.”

        An hour later, Q was doing his best to busy himself with typing away at his desk, engulfing his attention in hacking into the CIA’s system out of pure boredom. He had gone through two additional cups of tea since the meeting had commenced, and nothing had helped him relax. His nerves were fried, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the next day. But what was strange was that it was the flight that was giving him the most maddening headache, and not the fact that he would be going undercover with 007 as a love-smitten couple on vacation. In fact, _that_ idea oddly seemed to bring a slight wave of relief on his mind when it crossed his almost mechanical brain. But just as the idea began to take president, an image of a plane flying through a thunder storm and being knocked out of the sky settled right back in.

        “Shit,” he mumbled to himself as his fingers danced across the keys. Medical had been on the alert that Q would need everything they had in pill form for anti-anxiety medication. He wanted a variety of drugs, just in case one didn’t work better than another in his system. He demanded at least thirty pills a piece and even had one of his underlings go out and buy cold medicine for him, as a last minute resort to knock him out if nothing else worked.

        “Mapping out our itinerary, dear?” a familiar purr asked. Q blinked his eyes towards the screen, something he hadn’t done in almost five minutes. He picked up his mug and took another sip of tea as James walked around him to take a seat on the edge of his desk. Normally this is how they would interact, with James sauntering in after his missions with half of the equipment Q had lent him. They banter for a few minutes and Bond would flirt his way out of the chastisement Q would give him on the responsibility he held as an agent for the English crown.

        Well, at least Q called it flirting in his mind. He didn’t know what the hell Bond would call it. Being normal?

        “Hardly,” James’ Quartermaster replied, “I’m doing everything I can to ignore the fact that I have less than twenty-four hours to live.”

        Bond rolled his eyes and folded his hands into his lap. The light grey suit he wore flexed when his arms moved, catching Q’s eye for a slight second.

        “Do you know how many things I’ve done where my life was actually in danger?” James asked.

        Q cocked a brow up at the rhetorical question, “Twenty-three things since I’ve arrived, but your record indicates you’ve had over fifty brushes with death.”

        “My point being is that you do more in your everyday life that can kill you rather than getting on a plane.”

        Another sip of tea, and Q had yet to relax, except for that brief moment when he thought of them acting like a couple.

        “What are you drinking?” James asked suddenly. Q set his mug down and it made him feel strangely naked without it in his grasp.

        “Earl Grey, and you already knew that,” Q replied then shifted his eyes back to his computer screen. James picked up the Scrabble printed mug and began to walk away. Instantly Q shot up from his seat and turned around to watch the agent stroll off with one hand tucked into his pant pocket and the other grasping his beloved tea.

        “Where the hell are you going?” Q demanded loudly, causing a few of the others in his branch to look up from their seats.

        “You need to relax a little. I’m cutting you off,” Bond replied, not bothering to look back. Q adjusted his tie and cleared his throat as James turned the corner and stepped out of sight. He took his seat back at his desk and tried to regain some composure. He closed out his system and handed off several files to the different Quartermasters around the office, making sure that things would run as smoothly as possible in his absence. He tried his best to make it not feel like it was his last will and testament as he signed off the various duties to each member of the staff, but the idea was looming over his head.

Before he left, Q made the trek down to medical for his pills. With them in hand, the trip back to his flat seemed easier. The moment he stepped inside the apartment he felt the low buzzing of his phone signaling a new message. Q picked it out of his pocket and opened the front door. There was a warm scent of mint that hit his senses the moment he walked in. He set his bag down on the counter in his kitchen and noticed the familiar Q mug from work sitting next to his stove top. Strange enough, there was a bag of tea brewing in water, still steaming from the cup. Q glanced down at his phone and read the text:

_Moroccan Mint. Get some sleep. –J_

He wanted to search his apartment and figure out how the hell Bond had gotten in, but the tea did look quite lovely as it sat there stewing. Q picked out the bag and took a sip of tea. It warmed him internally and cleared his mind strangely. Carrying the cup with him, he made his way into his bedroom and propped his legs up on his bed. After another sip, he pulled out his laptop from underneath and booted it on. Yet, even with the temptation of the internet at his fingertips, he just couldn’t quite seem to keep his eyes open. They grew heavier as he began typing away and the tea was finished off in twenty minutes. In twenty-one minutes, the young Quartermaster was asleep with the warm laptop resting on his stomach.

***

        The airport was bustling with people getting to and from their flights. Q had never found himself in the middle of such a panic attack like the one he was trying to calm inside his stomach. While packing his bag earlier that day, he had decided upon wearing his “lucky” sweater, simple black cashmere, which he wore over a plain black tie and his most expensive white shirt.

        _Well, if they find my body intact they’ll know I had expensive taste._

“Q,” a familiar voice called out from behind. Q turned on his heel and found James Bond stalking towards him, wearing a worn leather jacket. He looked more causal than Q was used to, with no tie and his shirt top two buttons undone. Rugged was more like it.

        And Q liked it.

        He cleared his throat and did his best to act professional but found it difficult to manage his hands shaking with nerves.

        “Double-oh-seven,” Q replied as they began to walk in unison into Heathrow Airport.

        “Did you sleep well?”

        Q was taken aback by the question as he fished through his pockets. “Er, yes, actually I did.”

        They came to a short line getting their luggage through and in the meanwhile Q fished out his medication from his coat pocket. James noticed his movements and watched him study the pill in hand.

        “What did they give you?” he asked him.

        Q took the pill and then a swig of the last of the tea he had ordered from the corner coffee shop by his apartment.

        “Ambien, to start,” Q replied, “sweet, sleepy Ambien.”

        “Great, I get to be the babysitter too,” James grumbled while they set their bags onto the conveyer and stepped through security.

        “And the role of acting like my much older boyfriend doesn’t bother you?”

        Q noticed the small smile that was on the edges of James’ lips.

        “Strangely enough, no. I think it will be fun to see you out of your element. And I must warn you, our mission begins now,” the agent replied. Q kept up with his stride through the walkway towards the gates. Yet, as they continued on, he started to feel his mind grow slightly fuzzy. He stopped a moment removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. James touched the crook of his elbow and leaned into Q.

        “Drug working?” he asked gently. Q blinked his eyes and nodded his head.

        “Apparently so. I must be quite the lightweight.”

        James eased him to a seat at the nearest gate and squeezed his shoulder in reassurance.

        “Stay put,” he told his Quartermaster and then left his side. Q wanted to open his eyes to see where he was, but it seemed just fine that they remained closed. He kept his glasses on though, in case he changed his mind. The monotonous noise of the airport was lulling him into a trance. Q fought his best to keep his body coherent. His head slumped to the side into the palm of his hand.

        “Here we are, darling,” he heard James’ voice announce. Q opened one eye and found him with a smiling blonde airline attendant wheeling a chair towards him. 

        He had a quip to say about him using the pet name again, truly he did, but Q didn’t feel like talking much anymore. The strong arms of his agent lifted him carefully into the wheelchair.

        “You’ll be just fine,” the attendant tried to assure him.

        “You’re not the one getting on the bloody plane,” Q snapped, somehow finding the strength to speak.

        “Enough of that,” James warned sweetly, “or I’ll give you a window seat.”

        The woman laughed softly, at Q’s expense.

        “Wanker,” Q muttered under his breath. He was wheeled the rest of the way through the crowded space to their boarding gate. Once he was parked close to the double doors, Q’s closed his eyes once more. Through his illogical dreams, he felt his body shift and move around. It wasn’t enough for him to wake, but enough for him to know that he might not be in the same place. Curiously, when he turned his head his cheek rested against the warmth of something that smelled of leather and musk. He liked this smell. Q rubbed his face into it a little more and was rewarded with the sound of a chuckle.

        A pair of lips kissed his forehead while a hand ran across his unruly hair.

        “Just relax,” James whispered, “you’re safe.”

        “We’re still undercover?” Q questioned with a lowered voice.

        “I think we’re being followed. Just want to take precaution,” his agent replied.

        At that moment, Q felt a slight bump in turbulence, causing him to peel open his eyes slightly.

        “Shit,” he mumbled when he took in his surroundings. He noticed James had a drink in hand and was lounging back in their first-class seats with the lights dimmed above. He reached up and shut the light off, which helped the anxiety in Q dissolve once more. Out of sight, out of mind.

        “Go back to sleep, we’re almost there.”

        And with those instructions, Q shut himself off from the world, warm and secure against James’ side. 


	2. Chapter 2

        There was a heavy jolt that sent Q into a straight panic. His eyes flew open and in a split moment he thought he was going to die. James Bond’s hand grasped his wrist tightly when he shot forward to assure him that everything is fine.

        “We’re landing,” he explained calmly. Q turned to look out the window and exhaled at the sight of the runway, merely a jump below, should things go wrong. He slumped back into his seat and adjusted his crumpled tie, smoothing it back under his sweater.

        “Is it safe to speak right now?” he asked James. He remembered specifically that he had warned him that they might have been followed. Q didn’t want to look around at the passengers around him, for fear of being caught.

        “No,” James answered and kept his eyes focused on the window. Q looked down and noticed that James hadn’t released his arm yet. Gingerly, he turned his hand over and took Bond’s fingers between his. The softness of his skin surprised him. Since their very first encounter together, months ago at the gallery, they had never touched like this again. Q looked up and found James watching him. Q blushed and turned away so he could reach down and pick out his phone from his pocket. He switched it on as James watched him work, typing away at the screen.

        “What are you doing?” he asked Q quietly.

        “Just gathering our itinerary together.”

        James seemed to pick up on the clue; Q had arranged everything beforehand so that a secure computer and all of his equipment he’d ever need would arrive safely from the hands of another MI6 agent. He didn’t want to take chances with airport security and their mishandling of millions of pounds worth of technology. Luckily, the agency had established a rather well equipped base camp in Rome, and everything he would need was available there in the country. He would need to build James a few specialty pieces on his own, but at least he’d be settled in a comfortable room while working in his pajamas. M had booked their travel arrangements, but Q had hacked into his computer and checked out what MI6 had purchased for them. An entire honeymoon suite, located on the top of the hotel’s tenth story. James had put in a request for an Aston Martin to be available when they arrived, and he wanted room service sent up an hour after they checked in. Q had laughed at that. The man had expensive tastes, and since he was considered one of their top agents, the spoiled child always got his way.

        “A car will be there once we’re off this blasted thing,” Q explained then stuffed his phone back into his jacket. The plane came to a jagged stop and Q gave a final sigh of relief. The first ordeal was over without a hitch. And now work began. He was about to get out of his seat but James’ hand squeezed his to stop him.

        “One second,” he muttered to Q. The rest of the passengers around the first-class cabin began to shift and move around while they gathered their belongings and left the plane.

        “Him,” James said and motioned with his head towards a man dressed in a cream colored suit. He settled a matching hat over his graying hair and picked up a briefcase from the seat next to him. James turned away just in time before the man gave Q a passing look. It wasn’t anything, just a quick glance of their eyes connecting on one another, but it was enough for the young Quartermaster to know that they had indeed been followed.

        “Ready?” James asked after all the passengers had departed. Q did his best to repress his discontent when their hands released. He followed James’ lead and left the plane in a causal stroll. Their shoulders brushed against one another as they walked, but they didn’t touch more than that.

        “He had been following us through Heathrow the entire time I was taking care of you,” James explained when they were moving down the escalator.

        “Do you think he works for your target?” Q asked.

        “Good chance of it. I’m sure it’s not the last we’ll be seeing of the man. Just keep your eyes out when we get there.”

        “Duly noted.”

        The airport in Rome wasn’t as crowded as London’s had been, so when the silence came over them it was deafening. An older Italian man holding up a sign with the name ‘Bond’ written across it met them at the bottom. James took over and greeted the man with a shake of hands and a thank you. Their bags were being lifted into the town car when they stepped outside and followed their driver.

        “Signore,” a man called out and both Q and James turned at the same time.

        “This arrived just now for you,” he explained as he handed James the oversized luggage. Q had never been happier to see a piece of baggage than that moment, knowing perfectly well what was cased inside.

        “Grazie,” James replied and took the piece to place it next to the other pieces. They headed out into the crowded streets of Rome, heading through the heart of traffic.

        “How are you feeling?” James asked.

        Q smiled thin and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

        “Well rested, surprisingly. I’ll probably end up staying awake all night,” he replied.

        “Hopefully not. We have a full day ahead of us tomorrow,” James explained while they studied one another.

        “Will we be taking the Aston Martin out then?” Q asked.

        Bond smirked, “How do you know about that arrangement?”

        “I’m your Quartermaster,  _darling_ , I know everything about you,” Q joked.

        “Being what you are, I must advise you not use that title anymore.”

        “People could merely say we’re a… kinkier sort of couple.”

        James laughed at that notion and began fishing through his coat pocket. “If only it were that simple. Here, take this.”

        In his palm was a simple gold band—a wedding ring. Q took it and placed it on his left hand, feeling the chill of the metal touching his skin. James set a matching one on his finger. Blue eyes met green for a pause longer than acceptable, but it was Q that had to look away and stare off into the distance. The drive took over a half hour, but the pay off was when it parked in front of one of the most elaborate looking hotels that Q had ever seen. The Intrat Hotel had been designed in a typical Italian villa for the lobby’s décor. But behind it was a structure made entirely out of white marble, towering high above. There were matching stone figures of emperors and gods, arranged in varying positions on each of the floors’ gilded corners.

        “Home, sweet home,” James quipped before opening his door.

        “I take it this man is a bit flamboyant in his tastes,” Q thought out loud.

        “Welcome to Italy,” Bond retorted with sarcasm. He stepped out first and then offered his hand to Q but he ignored it and hopped out onto the curb. Their driver and James took over gathering up the luggage while Q scanned the lobby. There were several small cameras planted in the corners, most of them in plain sight but a few were hidden to the untrained eye.

        “May I help you with your things, Signore?” A young man wearing a fitted blue hat and suit asked Q.

        “N-no, thank you,” Q replied and clutched the handle of the luggage which held his prized equipment. James came to his side and Q felt his hand brush against the small of his back. The touch caused him to jump slightly, but not enough that anyone else would see. He smiled and leaned into James’ side.

        “Welcome to the Intrat,” the man said with a smile and a short nod.

        “Grazie,” James replied. The bellhop showed them to the front desk where a sultry-looking woman greeted them. She was all eyes for Bond, of course, but gave Q a once over gaze.

        “Welcome, gentlemen,” she said with a perfect English accent. “Checking in?”

        “Yes, the reservation is under ‘Bond’.”

        James’ thumb began to brush against Q’s back as she typed away on her computer. Q wanted to desperately see the screen, to find out what type of system the hotel was running to give him some sort of first stepping stone in their mission.

        “Ah, yes, our honeymoon suite,” the girl cooed. “Congratulations to you both.”

        “Thank you,” James said while she slid across the marble counter a palm-print device.

        “Place you right hand over the censor, please, one at a time,” she explained.

        “Impressive,” Q mumbled to himself while he watched James touch the screen first. Both he and James had been given false backgrounds, a complete life based on their DNA, finger prints, hair samples, everything. Q branch had quite a bit of fun, Q’s expense, mapping out their personal lives. From the minds of several quartermasters, James and Q had met while James was teaching at Oxford. It had been one of the most horrific stories Q had ever read. He was supposed to have been a smitten student, in love with his history professor. After the team had gotten most of their laughs out of the way, Q made a mental note to himself to ruin the credit of a few of the ringleaders instigating the whole idea.

        “The hotel is programmed by touch. Doors will lock and unlock based on your hand print,” the girl said.

        “It’s the new ANDRA formatting, right? I had only assumed that this was still in beta testing,” Q asked her while pressing his hand onto the sensor.

        “It is, but I have many friends,” a man’s voice said. Both Q and James turned to find a rather lanky man sauntering towards them. He wore a chevron patterned tie and a white shirt and slacks. When he smiled, a row of perfectly lined white teeth shone back.

        “And this is the happy couple!” he said and clapped his hands together in front of his lips.

        “It’s a pleasure to stay in such a beautiful hotel,” James said and casually extended his hand out in greeting.

        “Vincent Lucretia,” the man introduced himself. He turned his attention to Q, which made him stiffen in his posture.

        “And this must be your lovely new husband,” Vincent grinned while his eyes traveled slowly up and down his body.

        Q reluctantly accepted his hand and shook it, “Geoffrey Boothroyd.”

        James cleared his throat, “Geoffrey Bond now, darling, you’re a kept man, remember?”

        Q hoped that the sweat on his brow wasn’t visible. “Ah, yes, I keep trying to relive my bachelor years apparently. How silly of me.”

        Vincent laughed, a hearty sound that instantly relaxed Q. “Let me show you up to your rooms. Your bags should already be there.”

        The gold colored elevator doors opened expectantly for the three men as Vincent led the way.

        “How does such a young man like you know about the ANDRA creation?” he asked Q with a smile on his lips. The elevator doors closed and there was a gentle operatic voice that filled the small area on the overhead speakers.

        “I… I like computers,” Q answered and hated himself instantly for the remark. Vincent held his smile but his eyes narrowed in question.

        “I used to work at a Maplin when I was in college,” he tried to cover up. “It was just a temporary job that wasn’t much but my mother and father always thought it best that I try and make my own way in the world.”

        His ramblings were the only thing that he could come up with on the spot. Q turned to James who just smiled back at him, but he could all but hear him shouting at him to shut up. He wanted to crawl into a hole, with his computer of course, and never come out.

        “Well, we all have to start somewhere,” Vincent declared.

        “And where did you start?” Q questioned, surprising even himself. Vincent’s grin grew wider, but the elevator had come to an abrupt stop.

        “We’re here,” he announced and held his hand across the elevator door. Q and James stepped out and Vincent remained inside.

        “I’ll let you two lovebirds get acquainted with the place. It really is my best work of art.”

        “We give our compliments to the artist then,” James said as Q felt his hand touch his back once more.

        Vincent laughed again, “Arrivederci!”

        The elevator closed and they walked up to a pair of double doors with gold knobs. James touched the handle and they heard a clicking noise as he turned it to open the door wide. The room was already dimly lit, painting the place in a glow that caused Q’s mouth to drop.


	3. Chapter 3

The windows reached from floor to ceiling, leaving nothing to hide in view of Rome’s nightlife. The living room was sunken in, two steps down from the main walkway, giving it a warm and inviting vibe to the décor. The couch was white leather with two cashmere throws covering the armrests at each end. There was a painting of the Roman countryside attached to the wall, but Q assumed that the television was hidden underneath.

Yes, the room was definitely bugged.

Q set his bag down and opened up the luggage containing his equipment to pull out his first line of defense.

          “Something wrong?” James asked him as he inspected the place. Q switched on the blocker.

          “Not anymore,” he explained as he placed the small black cube on the mantle of the fireplace, “if the room is bugged they won’t be able to hear anything anymore besides static.”

          “Clever,” James said with a smirk. Q smiled as he turned back to the equipment and gathered up all he needed to begin work. He heard a knock at the door, which caused both men to look towards the entrance. Q shuffled the bag away from view and let James open the door.

          “Room service, Signore,” a young man greeted them with a cart of wonderful smells. Q’s stomach growled, eager for sustenance. As the boy wheeled in the food, Q remained standing in front of his luggage, feeling like a worried mother hen. James, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm, leaning against the frame of the kitchen with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The boy finished with plating everything on the dining room table and was given a well-earned tip before leaving them once more.

          Q scooped up his computer once more and brought it to the table to inspect what had been brought. James had ordered them both a steak with a side of potatoes and asparagus, all neatly displayed like a work of art on the plate. For dessert, strawberries and a bottle of champagne sat chilled on ice. The moment Q took his seat and powered on his computer, he looked up to find James shaking his head.

          “No computers at the dinner table, darling,” he said, before taking his seat on the opposite end.

          Q flashed him a glance and continued to type in his password to encrypt his mail.

          “I’m searching for a secure line to MI6,” he explained. “It will take most night to complete. I just need to get it started.”

          “You have five seconds,” James replied, folding his napkin over his lap.

          “Only need two,” he replied without tearing his eyes from the screen.

          Q fingers danced methodically over the keyboard, and just as he had promised, the search was complete and his computer would finish the rest of the work. He set the computer on the edge of the table but kept the screen facing him to keep an eye on things while he ate. Dinner was filling, and Q couldn’t remember the last time he had had a meal so amazing. James had poured himself a glass of champagne and then offered one to Q, which he refused.

          “The medication is still in my system,” he explained, “I don’t think I’ll tempt fate by mixing alcohol with things.”

          Bond stood up and walked into the kitchen as Q followed his every move. He brought out a mug and filled it with water then placed a teabag inside and set it in the microwave.

          “Apparently the room came well stocked with England’s finest teas,” James noticed and turned to Q. Q finished off another bite of steak and swallowed.

          “I put in my requests, and you put in yours,” he replied. “Will the Aston Martin be available tomorrow?”

          James’ eyes narrowed, “Nothing is a secret with you, is it?”

          “I’m your eyes and ears in the field, of course not,” Q explained. His agent brought over the cup of tea and instantly Q brought it to his lips to taste.

          “Its decaf,” James noted in surprise while taking his seat once more.

          “I thought you’d like to see that I’m working on my addictions.”

          “You know, I don’t think I particularly like this situation we’re in,” said James suddenly before taking a sip of champagne. Q’s heart started to race, oddly hurt and puzzled by what he had just heard.

          “You seem to know everything about me, and yet all I know is your name and that you’re a tea addict.”

          Q felt his pulse lessen, a smile coming to his face, “Come now, James, you know more than that.”

          “You’ve made it very difficult for me to encrypt your files.”

          “Thank you very much.”

          “Where were you born?”

          Q finished his meal and leaned back into his seat, “Next question.”

          “Where did you go to school?”

          “Next question, please.”

          James rolled his eyes, “How old are you?”

          “Twenty-six.”

          “Well, this relationship is going swimmingly,” Bond muttered behind his glass of champagne. Q’s grin widened. He set his mug down and turned back to his computer.

          “Will I be needing to make another appearance while we’re here?” he asked.

          “Well unless you want them to think you’re some type of covert operative using the place to hack into the system then, yes, we will,” James replied.

          Q placed his fingers on the home keys and began typing away. He started to check on a few of the other agents back in England and their report status. He glanced up to find James watching him silently, sipping the last of his drink.

          “Enjoying the view, Bond?”

          James didn’t answer him. Merely, he set his glass down and then stood up. Q couldn’t peel his eyes away from the sight of him as he walked away, unbuttoning his shirt and stripping it from his body. James turned the corner into the bedroom and disappeared out of sight. Moments later, Q heard the shower water begin and focused back to his work. The sound the keys made as he typed seemed to help him grow tired once more. It always was a comforting noise to the young Quartermaster. He was taking the last gulp of tea when he noticed James’ figure emerging from inside the bedroom, wearing only a towel loose around his hips as he walked through the room to pick out a pair of boxers from his luggage.

          Q’s lips tipped open wider at the sight and he felt a long drip of tea fall from his mouth and down his face.

          “Shit,” he muttered and set the cup down to try and clean himself off. Realizing that he needed a new shirt anyway to sleep in, Q stood and carried his computer from the dining room and into the bedroom where he noticed James had returned the bathroom to shave. He had left the door open, so when Q entered the room he had paused in mid-shave to watch him move around.

          Q did his best to ignore James’ eyes on him, acting nonchalant as he set the computer down on the bed and pulled his sweater over his head. Their clothes had already been neatly folded into the drawers of a wood-carved dresser with tiny cherubs on the tops of the corners.

          Q had just finished unbuttoning his shirt as he turned around to find James, the cocky bastard, standing in the frame of the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, one leg crossed over the other. He had changed into a simple pair of black boxers that hugged his hips perfectly. Q noticed the ugly scar over his chest, the one which Moneypenny had caused during her time in the field before he had arrived. The story had been infamous around the office; how one agent could shoot down another was unheard of.

          “So which side do you prefer?” he heard James ask.

Q blinked, “Pardon?”

          James made a nod with his head, “The bed. Which side do you prefer?”

          Q turned for a moment to study the bed and then Bond.

          “Personally I like the right side, but I won’t be picky,” James added.

          Q tried his best to focus on removing his button-down and replacing it with a plain white shirt.

          “I-I think I’ll just take the couch, that’s quite alright,” he tried to keep his voice sharp. From the corner of his eye he noticed James stepping closer.

          “Besides, I sleep with my laptop,” Q tried joking, although he was completely serious.

          “And I sleep with a gun,” James retorted causing Q to smile and nod.

          “Another reason to be weary of sleeping with you,” Q replied and flinched when he realized the weight of his words. He knew nothing would get past Bond, but could only hope that he would just let it go and that—

          “Think of sleeping with me often?” James interrupted his thoughts. The air in the room tensed, and Q couldn’t look up at Bond, who could have stood nose to nose with him if he had wanted. Q twisted away from Bond and picked up his laptop, prepared to leave the room.

          “I don’t even know if I could fit in the bed anyway with the size of your ego,” he snapped and finally found the courage to look at him. James didn’t look mad, just amused.

          “Come on, it’s best we both try and get some sleep before we get to work tomorrow,” his agent said and turned away.

          Q gave a sigh and looked towards the bed once more. It did look inviting, all plush white and over a thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. He figured that by one night, James would be asking Q to sleep on the couch. Q hadn’t been the easiest bed partner in relationships. Many times he would chose his computer screen over sex, finding other things to search out which were quite more enjoyable than a partner would never knew how to take care of him the way he wanted. The computer was always his support, in good times and bad. Mostly his former relationships would complain about the monitor’s light keeping them up all night, shining bright in their face because Q couldn’t sleep without it on, like an adult sized nightlight. Q turned and found James had already made himself comfortable on his preferred side of the bed with his legs crossed and three guns spread out over a white cloth. Bond picked one up and began to disassemble it for cleaning.

          Q took his place on the opposite side of the bed and mimicked Bond’s pose as he settled his laptop over his thighs. He couldn’t look away from the way James worked, cleaning the machine with a calm that only a double agent could possess.

          “How fast can you put it back together?” Q asked, genuinely curious. James raised one brow to look at him and then back to the handle of the gun he was clutching.

          “Ready?” he asked. Q found his timer on his computer’s programs and gave a nod with his head. He clicked ‘Start’ the moment James began to assemble the weapon. In roughly 4-and-a-half seconds, the gun was back to one piece.

          “Very impressive, Bond,” Q said.

          “Glad I have your approval,” James replied with a smile that caused Q to blush. Q turned back to his computer and James his gun, both men remaining quiet as they worked with their weapon of choice. The Ambien was still in Q’s blood, and so when he felt his eyes growing heavy once again, he didn’t try and stop it. There wouldn’t be a need for him to stay away, since his computer would be doing all the rest. But just incase, he plugged in his charger and set it on the bedside table with the screen open. To be polite, Q dimmed the light on the monitor before settling in under the covers. He turned over onto his side to watch James work. Q focused on his hands while he poked and prodded the machines to clean every part he could find. His eyes grew heavier until he could no longer see those long fingers anymore.

          A beeping noise, familiar to the Quartermaster, began to wake him from a very warm dream. Q had been on an island, enjoying a cup of tea, not that it didn’t sound strange enough already to find himself on some remote beach, but tea had come into play as well. The beeping was from his computer, signaling that a new message was coming through. In a haze, Q reached blindly for the right key and pressed ‘Open’ to answer the call. He could barely lift his head he was so tired.

          “What is it?” he asked.

          “Sir, just checking in to confirm you’re the person filtrating MI6’s system. It wasn’t coming from your normal computer, so I wanted to clarify that this one was you,” the Q-branch intern said nervously. Q couldn’t bother to open his eyes and see which one it was.

          “Yes, I’m letting it open the line to connect systems so that I have access to the branch there,” he tried explaining, hoping that he sounded coherent enough and annoyed.

          “S-sir, are you… alone?”

          Q’s eyes flew open and he sat up in a shot. He turned and realized that the computer’s camera had been pointed perfectly at him lying there next to James. His looked to the screen and tried his best to block his body from the view.

          “You breathe a word of this and I will happily ruin your career,” Q snapped and terminated the video feed. He fell back down against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. James hadn’t made a motion to show that he had been awakened, but Q wondered if he was. Being an agent, it was highly unlikely that he could sleep so soundly. He turned to find that the computer’s system had finished its connection so he closed the screen and the room became pitch black.

          But Q’s world wouldn’t shut off so easily. He kept his back to James, but staring at the darkness wasn’t helping the matter. He rolled over onto his back and the same view came into sight. Though he knew he could barely see without his glasses, Q decided to turn and face his agent. James was sleeping with one hand tucked underneath the pillow his head was on, probably clutching the gun hidden, Q imagined. The moonlight outside dimly reflected against James’ bare chest, and that’s where he noticed the ugly scar once more. He hated that he could see it so well, even without his glasses. A chill fell across Q’s shoulders so he picked up the covers that had fallen down to his hips and tucked them underneath his chin, but the cold was still there. He gave a sigh, as if a sign of defeat, and scooted closer to Bond. His body mass was giving off so much heat that it instantly helped Q’s condition. As he slowly began to fall asleep once more, he absently nudged his head closer, close enough to be tucked into Bond’s chest. While being lured back into his dreams, Q picked up on the familiar scent of leather and musk and knew he would sleep safely.


	4. Chapter 4

He didn’t want to move the next morning, but Q knew that he had work to begin. It was the motivation he needed to turn over onto his back and open his eyes. The curtains had been drawn, but the room was still bathed in a soft light. He searched out his glasses and found them at the table next to his computer then slipped them on. The room focused into view and he found that it was empty. The side of the bed which James had slept on still had the indention of his body cast into the sheets.

          From down the hallway he heard the front door open and someone walk in. Q drew in a yawn and then scooted off the bed to inspect what was happening. He found James, still with only his boxers on, in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. Next to the mug he was pouring into sat another cup with a bag of tea brewing inside it.

          “Good morning,” James said happily. Q studied the young hotel worker, whom had brought in breakfast, as he cleared away their dinner plates and set out new ones for the new spread he had brought up.

          “Good morning,” Q repeated back while walking into the kitchen for his tea. James handed him the mug and dipped his head down to kiss Q on the cheek. Q kissed him back, reminding himself that they were still playing the part. James’ lips were warm against his skin, and he felt the cold return when he pulled away.

          “Hungry?” Bond asked then took a sip of his coffee.

          “Famished, actually,” Q said, his stomach audibly growling. The man finished and James thanked him with a bill before he left. Q walked back into the bedroom and brought back his computer to the dining table before beginning his breakfast.

          “I thought I told you no computers,” James quipped as he took his seat.

          “James, you’re smothering me. I think I need a little more independence in this relationship,” Q said with a mouth full of scrambled egg. James chuckled but he didn’t protest anymore when Q began to type away.

          “Ah, very good,” Q exclaimed, “Q branch has sent over the blueprints to the hotel. We should have no problems navigating through.”

          He narrowed his eyes at the screen and took a sip of tea. Q started to download the design and found a flaw which caused his brow to fuse together. “Interesting though, there’s a rather large area in the eastern wing of the hotel which isn’t coming up on the layout designs.”

          “Vincent’s office?” James suggested.

          “Perhaps,” Q replied, “I’m accessing their security feeds right now.”

          James stood up and walked around to take a seat next to Q as he worked. The computer picked up the video feed from the security guards room and he secured the connection quickly.

          “For a man who can afford the ANDRA hand printing system, his hotel’s firewall is exceptionally easy to cut through. I expected more of a fight than this,” he said in amusement. “I also need you to set up a link for me to tap the phone system. The one in the room is useless. I’m thinking that it should be easy for you through the hotel’s main lobby. The receptionist there had quite an eye for you last night when we checked in, perhaps that could be to your advantage.”

          “She did?” James asked in all honesty.

          “I can’t believe you didn’t notice,” Q muttered and bit into his toast.

          “I had other things on my mind.”

          Q continued on and several screens popped up, bringing up video from various parts of the hotel. There was a feed in the lobby, several from the view of different elevators, and one from a long and narrow hallway that didn’t look like it matched the décor of the hotel.

          “That looks like it may be that mystery location of the hotel. Can you find out where the video is coming from?” Bond asked as he leaned in to study the screen.

          Q smirked, feeling proud for knowing he could get the coordinates and more for his agent. In a second, Q knew exactly where the video was coming from and could even move the camera himself to inspect the area.

          “We should get down there soon and start things,” James said. Q’s fingers paused over the keys and he looked to Bond as he picked up his mug once more.

          “I can monitor you easily from the hotel room, James, there’s no need for me to accompany you,” Q tried to protest.

          “You’re not afraid of getting your hands a little dirty, are you?” Bond challenged him.

          “I’m not entertaining that idea with a response,” Q said then stood up to leave the room. He fetched out of his bag of supplies from the small chip which would track Vincent’s phone conversations, as well as any conversations from the main line, then returned back into the living room and sat down next to Bond.

          “A little personal favorite of mine,” he explained to his agent, holding the chip between his thumb and index finger, “you connect it into the outlet and it will run all audio and computer lines back to me.”

          He placed it in James’ open palm and then stood once more.

          “I’m going in for a shower. If we’re to be seen out in public, I might as well look decent.”

          Q returned back into the bedroom and closed the door behind him after he had started up the shower water. The bathroom was exceptionally well crafted, even for his tastes. Simple white marble lined the floors and the double-sink basin was done in a smooth dark wood finish. It was masculine, yet soft all at once.

          He stepped under the water stream and his muscles instantly relaxed. Q always had a problem with coiling his body into a tight ball of stress, only to realize it once he had shed his clothes and headed into the shower or bath. He hated that he was always tense, but working for MI6 came with a price. He could only see the argument being that insurance could cover dozens of massages, had he wanted to seek them out.

          Fully scrubbed and washed, he stepped out and wrapped a plush white towel around his waist to check his reflection in the mirror and prepare for his first day as a secret agent.

          Q walked into the bedroom to fetch his clothes but first poked his head out from around the corner to see where Bond was. The living room was deserted.

          “James?” Q called out to no response. He started to grow nervous. As quickly as he could, Q pulled a pair of slack up over his hips and began to change into his shirt when he heard the front door open and close.

          He grabbed his glasses then rushed from the room, not knowing what he would find, but thankful to see James Bond closing the door behind him.

          “Where the hell were you?” Q demanded with relief.

          “Got the chip installed,” James said casually and walked over to Q’s computer to take his seat.

          “How did you know out how to install it?”

          James glanced at Q and then began to type away at the keyboard, “I can figure out a few things on my own without your supervision.”

          Q walked over to the computer and shooed Bond into the next chair over so he could pick up the signal from the bugged phone in the lobby. Within seconds, there were voices in Italian coming through the speakers of the laptop.

          “Well done, double-oh-seven,” Q commended him.

          James grabbed the computer and turned it back towards him.

          “Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to send M an update on our status,” James said and began to type his email once more.

          Q was ready to leave thirty minutes later, his shirt tucked in and his hair a wavy mess after drying on its own.

          “Shall we begin?” Bond asked with his eyes giving Q a once-over glance.

          They headed into the elevator and before the doors opened on the bottom floor, their hands were intertwined. Q couldn’t think of who had been the one to instigate the touch, but it made him feel instantly safer. Before they had left, Q had snagged up his tablet to continue his work, and he kept his hand clutching it tight in his pocket. The hotel’s lobby was buzzing with a crowd checking in for some event in Rome. Judging by the age group, it seemed to be a retreat of senior citizens. Q chuckled and it caught Bond’s attention as they took a seat in the lounge.

          “Shouldn’t you be with the group?” he joked. James crossed one leg over the other and gave a signal for the waitress to tend to them.

          “And I think I noticed you didn’t bring your spot cream with you. Should we stop and pick some up?” Bond quipped in return. A petite girl came by and James ordered Q a cup of tea while he took coffee. Once she returned with their drinks, James pushed his chair up against Q’s and they sat there for a few moments in silence, enjoying their drinks and watching the crowd around them. The phone line Bond had hacked for Q came as quite a surprise. Q hadn’t expected his agent to have picked the right line to connect to, but he had, and Q was able to gain access into Vincent’s schedule. The receptionist at the lobby had placed it on her computer, and was updating it as they sat there.

          “It seems that our friend will be making a quick trip into Rome for an appointment this morning,” Q commented and tilted the tablet so that Bond could view it. He went to check on the video screen once more and noticed Vincent walking down a hallway in a rush.

          “Where is he going in such a hurry?” Q wondered out loud as he took a sip of his Earl Grey.

          “Q, set your tea down,” Bond said quickly.

          “What? Why?”

          Bond took the cup from his hand and pushed the tablet away before cupping the side of his Quartermaster’s face and bringing his lips to his. The kiss took Q back only for a moment, because of the surprise of it. But once that had worn off, Q’s body relaxed and he allowed James to take control of the touch. His lips were softer than he expected, though forceful enough for him to know that James was in total control. Q felt a groan in his throat as James’ mouth coaxed his to open and give him permission to brush his tongue alongside his. He tasted of mint and coffee, working together in a strange unity of perfection. As it had begun, Bond broke away and left Q in bewilderment. His body was still frozen in place as James relaxed back into his chair and took another sip from his cup.

          “Vincent was walking by with that man that had been on the plane. They’d noticed us sitting here,” James explained casually. Q sucked his lips underneath his teeth while trying to regain his composure. James was still there on his mouth, and it had caused a spark in his heart rate.

          “Y-yes, better to be safe,” Q stuttered on his words then cleared his throat. He began skimming through the location of the address where Vincent would be having his appointment at.

          “It appears that he is heading to a café,” he explained as he studied the map.

          “Let’s take a ride then,” James said and signaled for the check.

          The Aston Martin had been parked in valet and came pealing around the corner when Bond had requested its arrival outside. A sleek, black one-77 series stopped inches in front of Q. A few of the hotel’s patrons stopped as they were heading in and out of the lobby to stare at the beauty awaiting, its engine purring low and steady. James had merely requested an Aston Martin, but it had been Q that had set up which version they would be driving for their trip. He had never been in a sports car, so he knew that his first time needed to be perfect, and expensive.

          The valet closed the door behind Q and took out his tablet once more to give Bond directions as they drove.

          “Sorry about the kiss,” James said once they were out on the open road. Q’s finger stopped against the screen of his computer but he didn’t dare look over to Bond, but he could feel his eyes on him, waiting for his response.

          “You were doing what was in our best interest to look the part,” Q said in the hopes that his voice would remain strong.

          “I mean, if it made you uncomfortable.”

          Q chose not to say anything, allowing James’ words to fill the small space around them. When he finally did steal a look, James was staring at him, as he had expected. Q sighed and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

          “Honestly, James, if kissing me warrants this conversation every time, then I don’t know if I want you to do it again.”

          Bond lips curved into a smile. He kept one hand on the shifter between their legs and the other gripping the wheel as he focused back on the road.

          “Then next time I won’t apologize.”

          “Good man,” Q said quietly as he tried not to grin.

          “Are you uncomfortable with me?”

          Q gave another very audible sigh and twisted his body to look at his agent. “Stop it.”

          “You are.”

          “No, I’m not actually,” Q finally budged, “and since you want to stay on the topic, you aren’t my first kiss, nor my first kiss with a man.”

          “Do you have a boyfriend?”

          “My love life has always been a bit… difficult. So no, I do not.”

          Q’s confession seemed to intrigue Bond. He turned and looked to Q, who had gone back to skimming his finger across the tablet’s screen.

          “You’re not difficult,” James told him.

          Q laughed softly, “Well, thank you very much. But had you of met me in another setting you might have thought differently.”

          “If I had met you in any situation, I would have thought the same thing. You’re not difficult, trust me.”

          He wanted to look at James, to thank him for the compliment, but instead he remained a coward and kept his attention on the screen, acting as if his complete attention was focused on other things. The traffic began to pick up as they neared the heart of Rome, but inside the Aston Martin, Q could barely hear the noise of the world around him. He liked it this way, looking out from the safety of the car, with James Bond driving at his side. But before he could get comfortable in the situation, they had made it to their destination, and duty called for the mission to continue on. 


End file.
